


Black Lies

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Dumbledore, F/M, Jealous Tom, Jealousy, Manipulative Dumbledore, The Deathly Hallows, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She hadn't meant to travel back that far.Work is now up for adoption!





	1. The Departure

Curses slammed into the wall they had ducked behind. Hermione risked a glance of the attackers, before throwing a weak, poorly-aimed hex, which the target deflected lazily with the flick of their wand. She raised her head again, counting eight death eaters, before two hexes, amber and emerald, were fired at her. She doubted the green curse was aimed at her; it punched a hole into the pillar to her right, almost harmless. The orange hex skimmed her arm, causing an intense but brief burning sensation; it would have been deadly, if it had found it's mark. She quickly ducked down.

"There's too many, we can't hold them off." Hermione shouted over the frantic yells of people dueling close to their improvised shelter. She could hear a deafening scream turn into a bloodcurdling shriek, and flinched.

"We have to  _try_." Ron replied, grimacing. Hermione nodded in serious agreement.

"The snake  _needs_  to be killed, otherwise Harry won't have a chance." Hermione reminded darkly, wand clutched to her chest.

They had recently discovered that Voldemort's snake, Nagini, was a Horcrux. Ron sighed, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand, obviously dreading the task ahead.

"Quickly, let's go." Ron sharply gestured towards the staircase to the left. They sprinted towards the familiar staircase, spells whipping past them. She angled her head to face towards the opposition, and readied her wand.

 _"Alarte Ascendare_!" Hermione shouted, sending a Death Eater flying. She paused for a few seconds in surprise in her unexpected success, wand arm extended, before Ron grabbed her by the other arm and headed to the descending steps. She raced down the stone staircase, stumbling upon the rubble.

"Over here!" Ron roared, speeding towards the corner of a corridor below. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the figure of a snake, heading directly towards Ron.

 _"Ron, look out!"_  She screamed, before hurling a powerful curse at the reptile. It advanced towards Ron menacingly. He joined in with the casting, sending flashes of blue and purple. The serpent continued its path, the multitude of spells sliding off its scales.

It leapt up, sinking venomous teeth directly into Ron's outstretched arm.

" _Ron_!" Hermione sped towards him, not caring of the potential danger. The snake continued viciously attacking him, despite the fact that Ron had already lost.

She saw him struck down to the floor, bleeding out. She saw eyes glaze over, unseeing. His wand slipped out of his limp hand, rolling away on the floor with a soft clatter.

The snake slithered towards her, intent obvious. Her eyes widened as reality slowly found its way back to her. She backed away.

" _Bombarda!"_ The large piece of rubble besides the serpent exploded. Hermione continued backing up, stumbling slightly.

" _Confringo_!" There was no effect. She tripped. The snake sped up, hissing at her. She cast the disarming spell, which did nothing. Panic filled her. She tried a stunning spell with the same effect. Hermione fell to the floor, wand falling out of her hand and to the left. Desperately, she lunged for it. She turned to throw another hex, only to find Neville decapitating the monster. In his hands lay the sword of Griffindor. There was a pause, filled with shocked stares and heavy breathing.

" _Ron_."

 

 

**∆**

 

 

Hermione was still knelt besides Harry's cold body. His eyes were firmly shut, wand loosely handling in his half-closed hand, his other hand open. His glasses had lay askew. Hermione replaced them to where it was meant to be, giving the illusion that he was merely sleeping. The wand was not his; the wood was much darker, and the slender figure was too long to be his. She recalled Dumbledore using that wand. Vaguely confused and desperate for a distraction, she continued to dwell on that thought. Hadn't Harry said, during their brief and disastrous stay at the Lovegood residence, that Voldemort was after _that_  wand? He had also said that it was not just to cause the death of his powerful enemy, which meant that it must be important or very powerful. Or-

_The Elder Wand._

Dark realisation was the first emotion Hermione felt. Harry  _did_  mention these to her, and at the time she had given vague agreements, not truly believing what he had said. Then there was the Tale of The Beetle and The Bard, a book left in her possession after the death of Dumbledore. How could she of been so  _stupid?_

Her shaking hands still clutched Harry's invisibility cloak, which was found discarded besides his body. Belletrix Lestrange had become enraged after seeing her Lord hit by his own killing curse. Wild, she had cast eighteen  _Avada Kedavra's_ in random directions. She even hit three of her fellow Death Eaters, who were all fleeing at their sudden loss. She had hit Harry, who was the first person to go. He wasn't expecting death, yet after fighting for so long, losing so much- they had won. Victory shouldn't feel this way. McGonagall's curse _, Incendio,_ had caused the evil witch to be engulfed in ravenous flames. A quick death that she did not deserve.

The invisibility cloak. The Elder Wand. Hermione closed her eyes, releasing a shaky exhale. In Harry's open palm lay a small, black stone. It was too perfectly square to be natural. She grimaced, then picked up the small stone. Slight warmth seemed to emit from it, confirming her suspicions. The Resurrection Stone.

All three Deathly Hallows.

They had caused misery, destruction and distress. Nothing good had ever come of them, no happiness nor peace. Even the stone, which was supposed to give life, had caused death. A sudden rage filled her.  _If_ Dumbledore didn't have the wand, if it did not exist, Voldemort wouldn't of caused as much damage trying to look for it. Snape would be alive- many would be alive, having not fallen prey to Voldemort's search for power.

If it was made in Earth, it could easily be destroyed in Earth.

Hands slightly trembling, Hermione reached out, intending on snapping it in half. There was brief moment of recognition that she held all three Hallows. Then she took it in both hands.

Before any damage could be done, the wand rapidly heated up, alongsides the stone and the cloak. It was a scorching heat, burning fiercely against her skin, yet something was holding her down, making her unable to move away. Her head began to throb painfully. All muscles in her body seemed to clench at once, putting her in agony. A wind seemed to come out of nowhere, pushing her backwards. Her back was falling, head slamming into the ground. Unconsciousness took her in a vice-like hold.

Time shattered around her.


	2. The Arrival

_"-bleeding out, Professor Merrythought found-"_

" _-incredibly fortunate, felt as though she was on fire-"_

_"-France, no doubt-"_

_"-dangerous, could've_ died _-"_

_"-wars, try not to question her too much-"_

_"-scarring affair-"_

 

 

**∆**

 

 

She ached. Everything hurt, and she was also plagued by an overwhelming dizziness that seemed to pound against her head and slammed against her temples. Her eyelids were heavy, and despite wanting to know where she was, exhaustion was stronger than her desire to fully wake up, so she shuffled deeper into the blankets. Hermione drifted back into a surprisingly dreamless sleep. 

 

 

**∆**

 

 

There was an indistinctive mumbling when consciousness pulled her out of rest once more. The hammering in her mind was still present, but had faded slightly. Her muscles were no longer hurting, but her back was strained due to her awkward position. Hermione felt no need to sleep any longer. She guessed that she had slept for half a day. Groggily, and with great reluctance, she opened her eyes.

The murmuring stopped immediately. Hermione's eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the piercing light, before she observed where she was. The Hospital Ward in her school, except it must have been reconstructed in the time she was asleep. The walls, instead of being a light cream, was coated with ivory white paint. The harsh, clinical scent that she had come to associate with the Ward was replaced with subtle herbal smells that was oddly comforting and was not unlike the litany apothecaries in Diagon Ally. Intrigued, she turned her head to the source of the cut-off mumbling.

"You're awake. Good, good." A man says, waving his hands dismissively of the two people close by. Both looked as though they were going to object, but thought better of that decision, hurrying off to tend to another patient. She didn't recognise the man who stood before her. Coming to think of it, she didn't recognise the women that were tending the people here. Hermione inwardly groaned. She must have slept more than a day or so if they were able to replace the medi-witches.

"What is your name, Miss..." The man began, trailing off at the end. Hermione frowned. There was countless posters with her face on it, all offering a high bounty. Unfortunately, almost every person knew who she was.

"Hermione." She croaked. One nurse, after hearing her weak voice, quickly conjured up a glass of water. Gratefully, she drained it.

"Hermione," The man said in what he obviously thought was a friendly or understanding tone. "Do you know what month it is?"

"May." Hermione told him firmly. Even if she did sleep for more than a day or so, it would not change the month; the battle was on the 2nd of May.

"I see." The man said grimly, giving nothing, yet everything, away. Mistrust started clawing at her. After travelling so long, hunting Horcruxes and protecting herself and her friends, she had grown to not trust many. The man, seemingly oblivious to this, continued to ask her questions.

"What is your last name, Hermione?" He questioned in a 'comforting' tone.

"Gray." Hermione lied, then added with more confidence, "Hermione Gray."

"Well, Miss Gray. You've hit your head quite firmly. Do you remember how you got here?"

"Um..." Hermione began, unwilling to tell him the truth. She had difficulty coming up with a lie that made immediately after waking. The man sent her a disconcerting smile, which looked more like he was baring his teeth at her. Ignoring her not-reply, the man answered his own question.

"We suspect you travelled via Portkey, Miss Gray. Obviously, you do not remember what has happened, but never fear; we also suspect where you have come from. Miss Gray... do you have memories of a war?"

In another life, Hermione would have snorted. This man, whoever he was, seemed quite oblivious; almost everyone in the wizarding world was involved in the war. She nodded, not trusting her voice. The man tried to morph his uncaring features into a sympathetic expression.

"We apologize on your behalf, Miss Gray. You seem to have, unfortunately, lost a great deal of your memory. A shame, no doubt. We've all heard of the war, but seeing a young survivor in person... Children have no place in wars." He shook his head in disapproval, boarding condescending. The man now wore a more honest look of empathy, but still quite lacking.

"Any remaining family?" He asked.

"No." Hermione saw her muggle parents, who had no chance against magic, locked inside her childhood home and murdered in a vicious Fiendfyre. Seeing the expression she wore, the man left it at that.

"Madam Hollyhock has been tending to your wounds. She suggests that you spend one day more in the Hospital Ward. If you should ever wish to talk to someone, I will be here." The tone of voice he used made it obvious that he did not particularly want her to bother him.

"Thank you." Hermione said flatly, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The man forced a fake smile.

"As you probably know, you are in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Here in Hogwarts, we have four houses. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. You have missed the sorting, but never mind that; late students are as welcome as those on time. I am the headmaster of this school, Headmaster Armando Dippet." He declared grandly, arrogance shining.

Dippet. That name sounded oddly familiar. Perhaps she had read the name in a book?

"It must be a lot to get used to, especially with the months lost..."

"What date is it?" Hermione asked, raspy voice unrecognisable to her own ears. She struggled to keep a even tone. The man had said  _months_.

"1943, September 13." Dippet then attempted another smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "What is your age, Miss Gray?"

"Just turned seventeen." Hermione lied halfheartedly, almost robotic. Truthfully, she had turned eighteen a while back. He nodded his head, mostly disinterested, and left the ward. As soon as he left, she began to process the new information.

_1943._

Hermione's eyes finally widened in shock when she fully registered that fact. The Battle was in 1998. She had traveled  _55 years_  back in time _._

She cursed under her breath. One of the nurses, noticing the Headmaster had left, speedily waddled towards her.

"Are you okay, dear? You look awfully pale."

Hermione wasn't able to answer, shock still evident in her features. The nurse gently laid her back, forcing her head to rest against a pillow. She then produced a dainty bottle with purple liquid in it, then handed it to her. Hermione recognised it as Dreamless Sleep. She swallowed the contents of the bottle. A sudden wave of tiredness hit her. She felt her eyes close and her body relax. Sleep claimed her once more.


	3. Finding Paths

As soon as Hermione opened her eyes, she panicked.  _55 years in the past. I haven't even been born yet..._

She stood up shakily, and glanced to the bedside table.

No Hallows. 

She closed her eyes and checked again. There was nothing. She quickly tried to find a reason in her mind, but it came up blank. A quick feeling of dread rised into her; what if someone had taken them?

She dismissed that thought. If that were so, Dippet would have asked about them. Maybe, since they were in different places in this time line, they would be sent back? Or they stayed behind in her time, on the battlefield?

Even then, both answer had many holes.

She sighed, then picked up her wand and small beaded bag, which was on the desk next to her. There were Hogwarts robes next to the wand. With a groan, she remembered her modern, out of place clothing. Thankfully, nobody had mentioned it yet, Dippet most likely assuming that she was too scarred by war to speak of it, which suited Hermione perfectly. She changed quickly, stuffing her modern apparel info the infinite bag. Luckily, neither of the nurses had noticed her departure so she was able to slip out of the ward, unnoticed, and scurry down the corridor, planning on heading straight to the library to research all she could on the Hallows.

"Miss Gray."

It took Hermione a few seconds to realise that it was her the voice was talking to, and she turned around, startled. The man who had called her wore auburn hair and a impressive beard up to his chest. He wore light azure robes adorned with small golden lines and suns, which clashed with his hair. The man was smiling warmly, blue eyes twinkling. Albus Dumbledore smiled at her.

A very much alive, youthful Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione stared, wide-eyed and mind buzzing. Surely this would be a relative of Dumbledore's? As soon as that thought came to mind she discarded it. There were too many similarities between the past and future; even his glasses were the same.

Her heart seemed to pause in beating, her entire body still.

"I'm Professor Dumbledore, head of the Gryffindor house and teacher of transfiguration."

She forced herself to calm down, think straight and assess the situation; despite now knowing travelling back, she had forgotten that one of her ex-teachers could be working at the school. However, she  _could_ tell him what had happened, even if she didn't fully understand herself. Her other option was to do some research. She wasn't sure how young Dumbledore would react, so the latter seemed like the safest option.

"Good morning." Hermione replied carefully. The young Dumbledore smiled again, eyes twinkling with secret understanding.

"Good morning. Unfortunately, we must get moving; as much as I would like to get to know you, we must get you settled into your new family. Headmaster Dippet tells me you are in sixth year."

"Yes, professor."

"I assume you left the ward without instruction?" Dumbledore asked, amusement laced in his voice. Hermione flushed.

"They have been informed of you being sorted today, however disapproving they may be. Though, I do wonder about the way you got here. Many think a portkey." Dumbledore smiled in a tone of voice that suggested he knew more.

Hermione nodded, then followed Dumbledore to wherever she would be sorted.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

This time, the sorting hat didn't fall over her eyes, unlike her first experience at the age of eleven. She stood in the Headmaster's office, Dippet unsurprisingly not present. The office lacked the warmth the previous- _no,_ Hermione corrected herself, _future_ headmaster seemed to have. It was missing the odd trinkets, the disorganised-but-easy-to-find-if-nessicary manner. Most noticeable, it lacked Fawkes the Phoenix. The office, upon arrival, did not have the light humming of the bird, or the occasional flapping of wings. It was cold and empty, dark and grey despite mostly looking the same. The office lacked any comfort- it was almost disheartening. Hermione pushed the feeling down, instead opting to listen to the hat's musing.

_You are brave, that much is obvious. Fiercely clever, too. The thirst is there to prove yourself... You find it hard to trust, yes?_

Hermione grimaced.  _Please don't make me Slytherin._ The hat chuckled.

_Not Slytherin? I feel as though I have sorted you before... Ah! You were in Gryffindor. I recall wanting to place you in Ravenclaw. You would have done well in that house, you would have thrived..._

Hermione blinked, remembering her past sorting. The Sorting Hat had told her Ravenclaw would help her flourish academically. She presumed the hat had access to all of her memories. What if the hat told Dippet? She tried to raise her occlumency shields to block it from her memories, but the hat gave a light chuckle and continued to speak, discarding her attempt at resistance.

_All things I have said stay between us, though I do advise you to keep your shields up, as with your situation... It makes you vulnerable. Though, I would not usually use that word to describe you._ _You know how to survive. You would protect yourself. You have killed others to save yourself._

She almost flinched at that harsh yet brutally honest statement.  _Not Slytherin._ She couldn't be isolated by unfamiliar surroundings.

_I agree, maybe not Slytherin. Not with your amount of bravery and slight foolhardy nature, no... Yet, maybe. You think of those with your trust before yourself. A surprisingly Slytherin trait. It's a shame; I am sure Slytherin would be great for you. Nor Hufflepuff, no, you are no longer as trusting or kind, though you are still a good finder, evident in your little hunt. But Ravenclaw... That's an option... Yet you tend to not think as straight in matters of the heart, it seems. Very un-Ravenclaw like. It appears are now more suited to Slytherin than Ravenclaw._

Hermione saw Ron again, bleeding out. She knew he wouldn't survive, but she had seen her loved one in trouble, that he needed help. Stupidly, she put herself in the line of fire just to rush to him. She knew she would do it again, too.

_Yet your courage and bravery keep reappearing... If you don't want Slytherin, it seems_   _that once again I must sort you into-_

"Gryffindor!" The hat cried out loud. Dumbledore beamed at her before removing the hat.

"It is always good to have fresh faces in my house." He smiled, blue eyes quickly turning fond. He reminded her of the Dumbledore from her timeline. With a pang, she saw Dumbledore's lifeless body, she saw Harry weeping, Ginny desperately trying to comfort him. They had raised their wands in respect for the fallen.

"Robes that follow your house will be supplied for you, as will books for all your lessons. They will be sent to your dorm. I will get Septimus, the Gryffindor prefect. He also has a similar timetable to you, is in your year, and will be able to escort you to your lessons and dorm." Dumbledore handed her some parchment. He left to fetch the boy he had mentioned.

She wandered around the room, taking in the near stacks of paperwork, the occasional vial of potion (which she entertained herself by trying to identify without looking at the label) and the half-finished detention slip (for someone named Dorea Black for "accidentally" setting fire to a portion of the Black Lake). Her gaze found the Sorting Hat.

"Bee in your bonnet, Granger?"

"I had to change my name. I've already met someone from my past, but even if it's unlikely they would know me or my parents, I still want to be safe."

"Maybe Slytherin  _was_  best for you."

"Maybe." Hermione shrugged, turning to examine a stack of red books, sorting through them when she found that they were slightly out of alphabetical order.

_"The enemies are you friends;_

_There is a snake in a lion's clothe._

_Watch your back as the year ends,_

_You know more than they know."_

Startled, she turned around to see the lifeless Sorting Hat. Gently, she picked it up from the third shelf. Not a trace of life. She set it back down.

"What do you mean?"

There was no response.


	4. New Names, Old Faces

Hermione thought that she ready for the arrival of the prefect. He had a freckled complection, a long nose, and round blue eyes. He was tall and lanky, and wore a wide grin. The most notable feature was his fiery red hair. Septimus Weasley had such a strong resemblance to Ron, that, on first glance, she had actually thought him to be her dead fiancé.

"I'm Septimus Weasley, I'll be your unofficial tour guide." He grinned at her, which Hermione mirrored hollowly, before she was hit with a strong sadness.  _He even sounds like Ron._ He offered his arm. Slightly confused, she took it, then remembered the timeline. It was expected of a man to escort a woman around. Ridiculous, but Hermione had to follow what was expected of her, at least until she could find a way home. Even if there was nothing there for her anymore, she couldn't risk damaging the timeline.

Septimus lead her around the castle. He first brought her to the main hall, which was empty.

"They've all got lessons, poor buggers." Weasley sighed, shaking his head mournfully before grinning.

"What lesson did you have?"

"Professor Flidges, herbology. I swear he was about to hex me until Dumbledore came. Just because I didn't want to get my hand  _mauled off_ by some bloody plant."

Hermione let out a small laugh, which sounded fake to her own ears. Then Weasley's eyes grew wide with what appeared to be a sudden realisation.

"You're new here, so I need to show you all of the best places here. All of the secrets, so to speak."

Hermione was first shown the kitchens. Extravagantly and with great drama, Weasley stretched out a hand and tickled the purple pear, revealing a moss-coloured doorway.

"Magic, I know." He stated seriously.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

"You probably want to know about everyone else here." Weasley shrugged, offhandedly. Not spectacularly interested, but wanting to humour him, Hermione nodded.

"There's this really nice, simply gorgeous boy in Gryffindor. He also happens to be prefect." Weasley grinned, gesturing to himself. Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I think next year they're adding another prefect. So far there's only one per house, and they're always boys." He paused, before hastily adding, "Which is ridiculous if you ask me."

"There's the other prefects; Bartimus Jones, Ravenclaw, and Theodore Abbot. Hufflepuff."

"Then there's the Head Boy. I hope you don't become like the other girls, Hermione. The flock that follows him can get quite annoying after a while. Highest in literally every subject, even the dull ones. I reckon Slughorn wants to marry him. He's the potions master, head of Slytherin, by the way. Slytherins are evil." Weasley shook his head in disapproval.

"How come?"

"They're just so...  _slippery._ I wouldn't trust a Slytherin further than I could throw it. I wouldn't trust one at all, even after throwing it. Tom Riddle seems alright though- that's the Head Boy."

_Tom Riddle._

Hermione froze. Stupidly, she forgot to think properly about the timeline and was, once again, caught off guard. She swore softly under her breath. Calm down, think straight and assess the situation. These were the words she often told Her and Ron. She could always avoid Voldemort at school. It would be easy to do if she kept her head down and disappeared into the student majority.

"There's also the fact that Riddle doesn't date that much. Weird, since literally every girl- bar you, since you haven't met him- are throwing themselves at him. Even Muriel, my sister, and she's scarier than Flidges on a bad day. Shrieks a lot instead of talking like a normal human being. Lovegood says she used to be a Banshee and- hey, are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry. Continue?"

"If you're sure." Weasley frowned, concern shaping the features in his face. "Then there's the people I'm friends with. Isaac Longbottom, Jacob Lupin, and Alexander Potter. Just Alex, though."

They walked to the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady there, awake, and chatting to her friend in the portrait besides her, Violet.

"Veritaserum." Weasley recited after glancing at his hand.

"Right you are." The Fat Lady chirruped, allowing passage. As soon as Hermione entered, she could hear the Fat Lady excitedly gossiping to her friend about the new arrival. Weasley closed the door behind her.

The Gryffindor common room was exactly how she remembered it; fire crackling merrily, gold and red wallpaper, squashy chairs next to the warmth.  _Home_. To the right, she saw the girls dormitory, which Weasley pointed out seconds later. He unlinked their arms, then flopped down gracelessly upon the armchair closest to the fire.

"Should be five minutes before there's a free lesson. Good thing, too. The last lesson of the day. The rest of the Gryffindors should come here. You'll get to meet my friends." He sent her a lopsided grin, which was surprisingly endearing to Hermione. She took a seat on the couch facing Weasley.

"You'll also get to see Alex pine hopelessly after Dorea Black. Poor sod, he's worse than Slughorn with Riddle." Ron- no _, Septimus,_ snickered. Her stomach clenched harshly at the thought of Ron.

"Don't look so glum. We can always crash their wedding. I think it'd be a grand event-"

Weasley continued to describe Voldemort's wedding with animated gestures, occasionally causing Hermione to snort in amusement. As they lost track of time, roughly twelve sixth-years filed into the common room. Few noticed the new face.

"Sept, who is that?" One girl asked, who had pretty honey-coloured ringlets and kind-looking, brown eyes; a misleading appearance.

"Georgia Brown, this is Hermione Gray." Weasley announced loudly to the common room at large.

"Weasley's got himself a girlfriend!" A boy with brown hair declared. Weasley's ears started to turn red. One boy with sandy-blond hair and small blue eyes paused thoughtfully.

"If you've confunded her, Septimus, I'll curse you back to when Merlin's balls weren't saggy." He narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Weasley, who clasped at his heart in mock-hurt. Most of the Gryffindors snorted, including Hermione, but Georgia Brown, who was now obviously part of Lavender Brown's family, huffed primly in disapproval.

"Why, Isaac, I would never do such a thing." Weasley sniffed. Longbottom rolled his eyes, flopping besides Hermione. Georgia Brown frowned thoughtfully at Hermione.

"You're the girl that Merrythought found, aren't you?" She attempted a smile, but looked as though she was gritting her teeth. The girl's eyes swept up and down Hermione, obviously disliking what she saw. Her eyes lingered in her fuzzy hair, before tutting.

"A lady should really look after her appearance. You should take inspiration from a woman with  _style_."

"Good idea, seen any?" A girl to her left deadpanned as she passed Brown, heading straight up to the girl's dorm. Weasley cackled. Many of the other Gryffindors seemed amused by that comment, and turned back to whatever they came in to do. Brown scowled and stormed up to her dorm. Two girls closely followed.   _A lady should look after her appearance._  Hermione scoffed. She knew that timelines were incredibly different, but it still annoyed her to no end.

"That was nicely done." Weasley nodded approvingly. "She's Dorea Black, by the way." Hermione quickly associated the name with the detention slip in the Headmaster's office.

There was a pause. Suddenly, Weasley looked uncomfortable. He leaned forwards, clasping his hands together.

"She is right, Merrythought did find you.  _She was there with her_. Said you had a massive cut across your stomach and letters cut into your arm. Rumours get around fast, and, well... People, not me, are saying that you're from the war in France. It's terribly rude to ask, especially since you've already been through so much." Weasley muttered quickly, looking slightly embarrassed. Hermione frowned. She  _did_ say she was in a war, and she assumed that Grindelwald and his men were still fighting in France. She didn't want to lie to Weasley; his resemblance to Ron would make her feel guilty. But this was a half-lie, and it was nessicary.

"I am." Hermione confirmed, making a mental apology to the Weasley family.

"That's terrible, I'm sorry for asking. They say that you got here by Portkey. Strange way, you could've apparated."

" _You can't apparate in_   _Hogwarts_." Hermione corrected immediately on impulse.Weasley rolled his eyes fondly before starting a conversation with the boy next to her.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

_They were running down the forest, Harry slightly ahead of her, Ron flailing behind, desperately avoiding the curses thrown at them. Ron sped up, now by her side. She saw the curse being thrown, and hit Ron square in the back._

_Suddenly he fell to the forest floor, bleeding out rapidly with four neat puncture marks; two in his wrist, two in his neck_

_"Help." He gasped, reaching out. She was helpless._

_"Hermione, do something!" Harry shouted, emerging to her left. He faced her, a look of desperation on his face. The_   _snatchers were gone, only leaving her, Ron and Harry in the forest, which had turned darker in colour. A sudden and brutal wind picked up, battering at her stationary figure._

_"Help..." Ron repeated. As soon as she reached out to him, he exhaled a shuddering breath, laying lifeless._

_"Why didn't you help? You could have saved him!" Harry yelled, kneeling besides Ron's body. Hermione attempted to stutter out an excuse._

_"This is your fault." Harry snarled. His eyes were red, face rapidly paling. His nostrils were more like slits. He drew his wand, pointing it at her. She couldn't move, she was rooted to the ground, an unknown forced holding her down._

_"Avada-"_

 

 

**∆**

 

 

Hermione gasped, waking up with a jolt. She briefly wondered where she was before remembering her arrival into the common room with Septimus, her short introduction to Isaac Longbottom, and her departure into the girl's dorm, where a bed and nessicary equipment were stacked on the stool besides her bed.

She cast a quick Tempus, which revealed the time (6:43 am). Grimacing, she chose to open the provided trunk and organise for the lessons ahead. After that was finished, she randomly selected a book to pass the time with, deciding that as soon as one of her roommates would wake up, she would leave.

Unfortunately, Georgia Brown was the first to wake. She sat up with a slight smile on her face, then saw Hermione sitting cross-legged on the bed, and scoffed, smile dropping. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but ignored her huffs and obvious dislike.

"You could at least  _try._ " She eventually complained in a petulant voice. Hermione ignored her, preferring to read about the eight effects of Gillyweed. Georgia sighed again, her tone turning into exasperation. "No man would wish to marry you if you look as though you were dragged through a hedge backwards."

"Know from experience?" Hermione asked dryly. To her immediate left, Dorea snorted, confirming her consciousness. Georgia looked at her in a pitying manner before turning to remake her bed. Her roommates were awake now, so there was no point in staying for much longer. Hermione stood up, packed her rucksack, and left the dorm, which was completely vacant. Gryffindors tended to be late risers. She took the familiar path to the Main Hall, which had few people in it. Predictably, the most students milling around the hall were Ravenclaws. One or two Hufflepuffs, no other Gryffindors, and four Slytherins. Her eyes fell to a solitary Slytherin.

_It was him._


	5. The New Arrival

Tom Riddle sat in the middle of the Slytherin table. He surveyed the room with impassive eyes. As usual, the Gryffindor table was empty.  _Lazy idiots._ Hufflepuff had two people, both boys. They sat side-by-side, apparently in serious conversation. A brief and light sweep of legilimens showed that they were arguing over the same girl. Pathetic, and useless to know. Especially since she was secretly dating the younger one's oldest brother. Ravenclaws were always more intriguing than their uneducated counterpart.

The Ravenclaws were in groups of three, five and one on her own. He didn't even need to wonder about the group of five girls. They were whispering frantically, giggling, and glanced towards him constantly. Annoying, but to be expected. He forced his features into his 'charming' smile, sending the group to let out loud giggles. He glanced at the mixed group of three, who were avidly reading. He moved on to the last individual, a girl with iridescent eyes and dirty blonde hair. She sat alone, but whether by choice Tom did not know, or care. Annora Lovegood wore a dream-like expression, twirling her wand, causing it to snow. He doubted she even knew what she was doing. Lovegood was incongruous, and whatever she had going on in her mind, Tom did not want to see.

He turned to his own table. Fortunately, those idiots that called themselves his 'friends' had not yet awakened, leaving him free from their vacuous chatter. He looked at the three others that were on his table. Astoria Greengrass, Peony Parkinson and Frieda Bulstrode. Dull, boring girls in his year. They mimicked the girls in Ravenclaw.

Then there was a new arrival, and, too his shock, a wild-haired girl that looked as though she emerged from the Forbidden Forest appeared, clad in Gryffindor uniform. Gryffindors arriving early are unheard of. He recognised her as the girl that was found by Merrythought. She was strange, too much of her a mystery. Tom Riddle did not like mysteries. They were too much of a liability, especially when they refused to reveal themselves. A new girl meant she was unaware of who was in charge. The girl's eyes found his, then immediately looked away, jaw set. Almost  _furiously._ Bewildered, he frowned at the girl. Tom hadn't done anything bad to her (yet). He didn't understand. Surely a mistake? Girls tended to like him on first glance.

The girl, Hermione Gray, as Dippet told him yesterday, warily eyes the room, as though she were suspecting something bad to happen. She cautiously perched on one of the benches, facing him. Disturbingly, she filled her plate and started scarfing down food as though there would be no more left. Slightly repulsed at her undignified behaviour, he averted his eyes. There was an easier way for extracting thoughts. Although a beginner at legilimens, he would be able to focus only on thoughts and feelings, not yet memories. Not without her discovering, at least. As soon as he attempted to enter her mind, he was sharply bashed out by strong occlumency shields. Startling, but interesting. He increased his power in the spell, causing Gray to stop scoffing down food, slowly put down her fork and massage her temples. Intense seconds ticked by until he was able to access her thoughts.

_Get the fuck out of my mind._

He  _almost_  lost his temper, but was able to reign it in quickly. Instead of lashing out by casting a quick  _crucio_ , which would expell him due to onlookers, he intensified his legilimens attack. Smugly, he saw her wince, then grunt in pain. Her shields still unfortunately stood up, but the pain was evident on her face. Enough for someone to notice. He quickly pulled out, choosing to pretend reading the book that lay out in front of him. He could feel angry, indignant eyes on him, but ignored it, pondering on how to find out the knowledge he wanted. She had blocked him so readily, without warning, which meant one thing.

Hermione Gray had something to hide.


	6. Fresh Starts

"Hermione!" Weasley yelled, rushing towards her. It took her longer to register the fact that Septimus Weasley was not Ron. He was slightly shorter than Ron would be, and smiled more easily. He slid next to her, filling his plate.

She stopped glancing at Riddle every so often. Admittedly, his appearance had taken her by surprise. She had expected a slitted, snake-like nose, red eyes, skeletal features, and pale, ghost like skin. Instead she was greeted to jet-black hair, similar to Harry's, except perfectly groomed- unlike Harry. His eyes appeared black at first glance, but the morning light showed that his iris is in fact a dark brown. He had high, sharp cheekbones. She loathed to admit it, but he was handsome. That was not the reason she felt the need to watch him. Her wand was drawn but hidden under the table, just in case he decided to fire spells. Or try legilimens again. She hadn't expected him to immediately barge into her mind. Thankfully, she had practiced with Harry when they were camping out. Despite her best efforts, Harry was still a terrible occlumens.

"Wha're 'ou doing?" Weasley asked, voice muffled; he had crammed as much food possible, and was attempting to speak, reminding her strongly of Ron. He swallowed before trying again.

"What're you doing? Up so early, I mean."

"I woke up early and got bored." Hermione shrugged. Weasley rolled his eyes, bordering fondness.

"Mad. Always sleep in, that's the Gryffindor way. I'm surprised you didn't get lost on the path in. First proper day and all, as in." He continued, not noticing Hermione stiffen slightly. It was supposed to be her first day.

"-all thought you were lost, the last thing we wanted was for you to wonder around the snakes' lair in the dungeons." Weasley finished grandly, before frowning. He pointed towards the entrance at a blond boy, who was limping towards the Slytherin table.

"Abraxas Malfoy. He's injured again, bet you he's going to say from a Quidditch accident. Load of rubbish, if you ask me. I don't know what he's doing, but it's the second time this school year. I don't know what that blond ferret is doing. Don't want to know, probably some dark magic." Weasley narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Malfoy, who had limped over and sat a slight distance away from Riddle.

A few minutes later more students started filing in, including Weasley's closest friends. The two Gryffindor boys joined her and Septimus at the table.

"Jacob Lupin." A tired-looking boy held out his hand, which Hermione shook and introduced herself. He smiled at her, which she returned. "This is Isaac Longbottom, but you've already met him," Lupin continued, gesturing to the sandy-blond boy that Hermione had seen yesterday.

"Where's Alex?" Weasley asked, mouth full. 

"Still in the Hospital Ward. We checked. I don't know how he lost  _all_  the bones in his arm, it hasn't even been an entire week since his last visit." Lupin lamented, shaking his head. Weasley guiltily exchanged looks with Longbottom. Lupin noticed this, then sighed.

"What did you do?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Lighten up a little, we only tried to convert the stairs into a slide. Wanted to see if it would work. It worked better than Isaac's sorry excuse for a healing charm." Weasley shrugged, continuing to pile up on food.

"It didn't, but it  _could have._ " Longbottom added. Lupin exhaled, attempting to keep the amusement off of his face with no success.

"What do we have first, Hermione?" Lupin turned to face her. She glanced down upon the timetable which she had previously placed out.

"Transfiguration, Professor Dumbledore."

Ron- _Septimus_ stiffened, clasping his face in his hands. He groaned loudly. Longbottom grinned.

"Unlucky, mate. Guess you finally have to hand in that homework you've been procrastinating about."

" _No._ " Weasly wailed with a grieving expression. Hermione and Lupin exchanged bemused looks.

"What do we have after that?" Lupin asked.

"Break, then divination, then double Potions with Professor Slughorn." At that, Septimus leapt up off the bench and pointed a finger at Isaac.

"Ha! Your  _favourite_  subject, in double, with  _Slytherins!_ " He shouted, pleased with himself. He startled two skittish Hufflepuff Second Years, who scrambled quickly to the other side of the table, where Sixth Years didn't randomly jump up and shriek. Most of the students were now staring at Septimus, who's only display of embarrassment was that his ears slightly tinged red. He sat down quickly.

"We always have potions with the Slytherins.  _Always_. And it's not that I hate potions, it's more the fact that I set fire to our table once. Sadly, the potion we were making was supposed to put out fires, and old Sluggy's never let me live it down. I think he has a picture too, just to commemorate the event." Longbottom grimaced. Lupin rolled his eyes.

"That and you also hate Slytherin."

"Yeah, that too."

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

The five rows, thankfully, had three sections made up of two, three, then two. Lupin and Longbottom chose the first row two-seater, Hermione and Weasley chose the three desk.

"Normally Alex would sit here, but his arm somehow lost it's bones. I don't know how that happened. No idea. Some tragic accident." Weasley's voice turned louder as he glanced at Lupin.

"Sure.  _Accident,"_ Lupin scoffed, "Alex's coming tomorrow, he'll probably get another injury once he's fully recovered. Everything's an accident with him."

"I object on Alex's behalf.  _Most_  things are accidents." Weasley stressed the word 'accidents', and shrugged. He nudged her, then nodded towards the door. Abraxas Malfoy limped into the classroom, followed by one boy she was able to recognise as Avery. A second later, their leader entered. Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, automatically strengthening her occlumency shields. He was still as handsome as ever; since she had last seen Riddle. He hadn't suddenly changed to the dark lord she recognised. He noticed her stare and raised an eyebrow, joining his loyal followers in the back. She released a shaky exhale, willing her frayed nerves to go.

" _How_ did Malfoy get that limp, though? As far as I'm aware, he doesn't especially like testing out transfigured slides."

"I don't know." Hermione muttered, though had a grim feeling that Voldemort had something to do with it. The chatter died down as soon as Dumbledore entered the room.

"Good morning, class." He smiled at the students in general, though Hermione noticed his eyes harden slightly as he glanced towards some of the boys in the back.

"We will be continuing on attempting to transfigure a needle into a rat. We have not yet gone over Gamp's Law, so do not feel afraid to answer incorrectly to this following question. Can anyone name some Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

Hermione's hand shot up, as did Lupin's. Weasley murmured something about ' _super smart brains_ '.

"Miss Gray." Dumbledore smiled at her, seeming slightly, but pleasantly surprised.Â 

"Food, liquid, money, intentional curse damage and bringing a human back from the dead."

"Excellent, and in chronological order of discovery. Take five points for Gryffindor. Can anyone explain why you are unable to do so? Mr Lupin, of course."

Lupin gave the correct answer, earning another five points. Weasley whispered to her that they had just got back all of the points he lost from the last disastrous Herbology lesson.

"One person per section come up to my desk and take the required amount of needles."

"I'll get it." Weasley said immediately. He left, alongsides Longbottom and few others, including Avery.

_Malfoy's limping would cause Dumbledore to suspect something had happened and Riddle is above carrying out such mundane tasks._

Weasley had returned with the needles. He handed it to her with an extravagant bow, and she thanked him in likewise manner.

"Watch it, Weasley." Avery growled, slamming into the lanky ginger as he went past. Weasley scowled, pulling out his wand to retaliate.

"Don't, you'll lose the points Hermione and Jacob got for us,  _and_  land yourself in detention," Longbottom soothed, before adding mischievously, "but if they're going to be snakes about everything, we might as well fight fire with fire."

"If you're fighting fire with fire, the only possible outcome is more flames." Lupin stated wearily, knowing already that he wouldn't win the fight.

" _Unless,_ " Longbottom began to contradict, "the two elements are equal in every way, hence cancelling eachother out."

"That's not how fire works." Lupin, Hermione and Weasley said together. Longbottom shook his head in fake, almost doleful disbelief.

"You say that now, you'll be the ones messing up in the future, and I'll be in a mansion on some far off island."

"What, an mansion made purely out of fire?" Weasley snorted.

" _How on earth would that work_? Obviously it'd be made out of brick. Honestly, Weasleby, you reckon your smarter than me, but come up with stupid stuff like that."

" _You were the one blabbering on about fire_ -"

"Needles don't transform by themselves." Lupin interrupted pointedly, face scrunched up in concentration. They both looked as though they wanted to object, but neither said anything else on the subject, instead turning back to the task given.

"What's the damned spell, anyway?" Weasley muttered under his breath.

"Factivitaeum." Hermione replied, and showed him the wand movement.

"Thanks, Hermione. Only been here for one day, yet I don't know how I would survive school without you." Weasley joked, them turned to practice. Hermione flinched.  _I don't know how I would survive school without you._ Ron had said the exact same words. It seemed almost surreal, the fact that a relative of Ron's had wondered how to survive without her, the person that did nothing to save his future relative.

" _Factivitaeum._ " Weasley muttered, choppily trying to copy Hermione's elegant wand movements.

"It's like this," Hermione carefully instructed how to do the spell with the movements again.

"Can you do it?" Weasley asked, curious. Hermione frowned.

"Maybe.  _Factivitaeum._ " She announced. The needle twitched, not morphing. She repeated the spell, focusing on her magic. It swirled around her in gentle waves. She focused on drawing her magic in and focusing it on the needle. Her small, silver needle morphing into a rat on second try. Weasley's eyes widened.

" _Cool_. That was  _brilliant_ , Hermione. On second try, too."

"I don't know... the rat  _is_  a bit small, and its tail seems slightly too rigid." Hermione mulled over her results critically, blocking the rodent with her arms to prevent it from wondering anywhere else. She cast a quick glance around the class.

"Nonsense, not even Lupin's done it yet, and he's one of the smartest out of the Gryffindors. Course, Riddle's done it too, but he always manages to."

Hermione glanced to the back table. Tom Riddle stared impassively towards the front of the room, almost emotionlessly.

"Well done, Miss Gray. Ten points to Gryffindor." Dumbledore smiled warmly at her accomplishment. Hermione frowned; Riddle had achieved the exact same, but no points had went towards Slytherin... Surely Dumbledore wasn't biased _?_

"Not quite, Mr Longbottom. Perhaps you would wish to replace your needle?" Dumbledore offered, slightly amused at the sudden explosion, which had startled Lupin. Longbottom had disheveled robes and ruffed hair. He grimaced as he slowly dawdled to the front.

" _Colovaria."_ Hermione muttered, changing the rat's brown hair into a sunny yellow colour.

"I think green would suit it more." Weasley mused.

"Green?"

"Actually, perhaps silver. Or both. What are you going to call it?" He asked.

"Septimus, it's a needle. It doesn't need a name." Hermione pointed out. Weasley shook his head in disagreement. He then leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.

"Between you and I, Hermione, Avery would suit it perfectly. Lovingly named after that rat in the back."

"I disagree. Abraxas would be better." Longbottom contemplated, joining in naming the rat.

"No, Avery's far worse. Malfoy doesn't slam into me during class." Weasley argued, flaring up defensively over the name of the needle-transformed-into-rat. Lupin glanced up from his work.

"Avery Abraxas-Rosier." Lupin offered, then added, "Abraxas for short, though."

"Really?"

"Well, Malfoy  _is_  that shade of blond."

The boys snickered. Hermione glanced behind her to compare shades, only to find dark eyes watching her intently. She stared back in alarm. What did he want? She sharply looked back, now acutely aware of a certain future Dark Lord's stare. She tensed, gripping tightly at her wand.

Five minutes pause before Dumbledore dismissed the class with a pleased expression on his youthful face.

"I want an eight-inch essay on Gamp's Law, due in next week- class dismissed. Please remind Alexander that he must complete and hand in his Animagus homework, Mr Lupin. Mr Weasley, have you brought it in?"

Weasley groaned, fishing out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. Dumbledore thanked him with a smile.

"Oh, and Miss Gray?"

"Yes professor?"

"If you're available, I would like to see you later today in my office, after the feast. I trust Mr Weasley would be happy to escort you there."

"Yes, professor."


	7. Chapter 7

"Did you do the homework?" Lupin asked as soon as they stepped out of the classroom.

"What homework?" Longbottom's eyes widened.

"You didn't do it, did you?" Lupin closed his eyes, then shook his head, sighing tiredly.

"The prediction for your birth month. Just make something up, and make it grim." Weasley shrugged.

"Have you done it?" Lupin's eyebrows were raised in shock shocked. Weasley snorted.

"You have too much faith in me and my laziness."

"But you  _have_  to do it. We're going to the library for break- no, don't give me that look, you need to do your homework, and I'll drag you there if I have to. You two forgot to do your homework. Again." Lupin turned to Hermione. "You're free to join us if you want."

"Sure."

A bittersweet wave of nostalgia hit Hermione when they entered the library. In her own time, she had spent countless hours worrying over her exams and pouring over almost every book on the shelves. Lupin hummed cheerfully to himself, and was soon lost between the book shelves.

"We've lost him forever. We'll never see him again." Weasley mused, heading past the Herbology section.

"He was too young to die." Longbottom whispered in a mournful voice. Weasley rolled his eyes before dragging them to table in the back, where they discovered Lupin surrounded by four heavy tomes.

"That was fast. A new record for raiding the library, I think. Anyway, Isaac, we have _fun homework_  to do." Weasley scowled before setting his equipment on the table. Lupin suddenly closed his book, a curious look on his face.

"We don't really know much about you, Hermione, and it  _is_  rude to ask,  _Septimus_ , if rumours are true. Do you mind if I ask questions?" He asked, seemingly cautiously.

"Of course not."

Hermione was soon asked a barrage of questions by the three boys; Longbottom and Weasley discarding their homework in favour of questioning her.

"Why did you come here?"

"What part of France did you come from?"

"How were you previously educated?"

"Do you have any family?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The last question was from a innocently frowning Weasley, who was promptly hit on the back of the head by one of Lupin's large books. Cursing, Weasley scowled at Lupin who shrugged. She answered all of the questions, giving the name of the small village in France she had visited once instead of where she actually came from.

"What about family?" Lupin asked.

"They died." Hermione bitterly sighed. Lupin's eyes went wide and sympathetic. Weasley and Longbottom stiffened, looking guilty.

"Sorry." Weasley muttered. A tense silence followed, the boys focusing once again on their homework.

"Wait, when's my birthday again?" Longbottom asked. Weasley let out a startled bark of laughter. Lupin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"30th of July."

"Which means I am..."

" _Leo_." Lupin's lips thinned in an attempt to hold back a smile, before adding, "The sky is blue, you can't set fire to fire, and today is the 15th of September, in case you weren't aware."

"I'm Aries. I will be betrayed by a close friend." Weasley announced, before glaring suspiciously at the three others.

"Capricorn, stabbed in the back." Lupin reported. "What about you, Hermione?"

"Virgo."

"Ah. You're going to be poisoned by a friend."

"Lovely." Hermione huffed an amused sigh. Fifteen short minutes passed, before Lupin frowned.

"We might as well leave now. The astronomy tower takes ages to get to, and I don't need Triseyre to announce that she knew I would be late."

"Jacob hates divination." Weasley stage-whispered.

"That's because there's absolutely  _no logic_ in divination. All you have to do is just look into some orb, and then suddenly you know how you're going to die, and who's going to kill you, because  _all deaths are secretly murders_."

"Arithmancy is  _much_  better." Hermione agreed.

"It's a shame we only get to chose our subjects next year. We're  _wasting time_ doing useless subjects."

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

"I predicted you would arrive from war-stricken France and seek refuge in Hogwarts, Miss Hermione Gray." A woman mused as soon as she stepped into the mist-filled room, gazing outside the window. She then turned dramatically towards the entrance, fixing Hermione with a piercing stare. She had wide, bespectacled eyes and wiry auburn hair. Slightly disturbed, she trailed after Lupin, who was snarking about something along the lines of 'dramatic old people'.

Hermione saw Brown and one of the unrecognised roommates gasp in surprise, already hanging on to the professor's every word. They turned to Hermione, eyes wide. Lupin huffed. Longbottom and Weasley took the table, Hermione and Lupin chose the one just in front of them.

"Of course, my inner eye can see potential. You were born in Summer, were you not?"

"September 19." Hermione said flatly. Besides her, Lupin snorted.

"Not to worry, even if you are not a child of the Summer, I can tell. You are going to do many things. But of what nature, I do not know." With that statement, Triseyre turned dramatically, and began handing out crystal balls. As soon as she passed her and Lupin's table, Lupin turned to her.

"Seriously though.  _You're going to do many things._ All of us are at some point in our lives. It's last year all over again, when she said that I was going to die." Lupin scowled.

"Jacob. You do not possess the capacity to hold the inner eye." Weasley sighed wearily from behind them in a excellent intimidation of their teacher's shaky, overdramatic voice. He shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Today," Triseyre began, then paused for effect, "we shall voyage across the spectrum of stars and focus our souls upon the planets.

"Gaze into the crystal ball, children, and you shall possess the ability to understand the planets and their alignment. Silverfield, what do you see?" She turned towards the girl besides Brown, who beamed at the teacher, before excitedly turning to the ball.

"Miss, I think I can see Uranus!"

"Can I see Uranus too, Lucy?" Longbottom asked innocently. Thankfully, neither the teacher nor Silverfield heard him. Weasley chortled, digging his elbow into Longbottom's ribs.

"This is ridiculous." Lupin groused, arms crossed.

"What about you, Lupin? What can you see?"

"Swirly liquid in a glass ball." Lupin stated monotonously.

"Of course, child." She assured with condescending sympathy in her voice. "Miss Gray, how about you?"

" _An old bat with sight issues._ " Weasley hissed, a comment heard only by the four.

"Mercury." Hermione easily lied through her teeth.

"As I thought. How interesting..." Triseyre mused, floating onwards to interrogate other students. Brown and Silverfield inhaled sharply in amazement.

"You can't see anything either, can you?" Lupin muttered. Hermione nodded.

"Just tell her what she wants to hear, then she'll leave you alone."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you do not conspire amongst the stars, child." Weasley quipped from behind them. Lupin flipped him off.


	8. Knowledge and Power

She had made friends with Weasley, the Gryffindor Prefect that barely knew left from right, and couldn't perform even the simplest of spells. Sadly, Weasley was obviously infatuated with the girl; he barely left her sight, and was sitting as close to her as possible. In Transfiguration, he was hit with a strong desire to cast a strong stinging spell at him. It seemed as though Weasley was determined to keep him away from her. Weasley was sitting too close to her to be strictly platonic, and Gray showed no signs of being uncomfortable, almost as though she knew him for years before and  _welcomed_ the contact. Impossible, as they had just met. Gray seemed wary of him straight away, but was more trusting of everyone else. Usually, it was the other way around.

 _It would be difficult to get answers from her,_ Tom mused. In order to interrogate her, he needed Weasley to not be there, nor any of the other Gryffindors that annoyingly followed her around. He knew he had to be quick about it; soon, Alexander Potter would rejoin their group, and fill her already mistrusting mind with stories about him. True stories, but she didn't need to know that. Nobody did, and thankfully, nobody believed what Potter said about him. Nobody except Dumbledore. The old man had judged him before they had even met properly, just like Gray had. Perhaps Dumbledore had warned her of him. The most likely possibility. This meant he would have to work harder at getting her secrets. Frustrating, but easy to do. She had something to hide, obviously. Something that she hadn't told anyone about yet. Gray seemed on the the brink of revealing whatever it was. She looked impatient, nervous, anxious, sad, angry, exhausted, and worried, all at the same time. Most girls weren't able to hold onto even one feeling, were too shallow to understand such complex emotions.

She seemed older then everyone. As though she had lived her life, and was finished with it and was content to wait out the rest of her life. Tom recalled the images of the people from the war in France. They carried around the same look of unabashed sadness. She was definitely in a war.  _But not the one in France_. She didn't carry even the faintest French accent, her words spoken carefully and fully pronounced. Most likely from England, and had slight, faded scars on her cheek, evidently caused by magic. Not the war in France, and not the war going on in the  _muggle_  world.

The old fool, Dumbledore, appeared to be aware of something off about her, yet Dippet, with his usual disregard for students and inflated ego, hadn't bothered to pay enough attention to notice the holes in her story. His ego was  _dangerous_. If he let random strangers into the castle, what else would he do? Tom Riddle decided to never become like that; too arrogant to see things clearly. Especially if he still wanted to have that  _occupation_  when he's older...

Malfoy was uncharacteristically silent by his side. It appears the lesson Tom had given him yesterday had not quite washed of as quickly as the other one five days ago. He hadn't given his permission to hex that fifth year, so he had unsurprisingly fucked up. The Hufflepuff student had fled to the library, memory intact. After a quick  _obliviate,_ Tom was able to sort out the mess Malfoy created.

Lestrange was by his right side, withdrawn from the loud conversation Rosier, Mulciber, Nott and Dolohov were having. Probably concerned for Malfoy's safety, if the glances to his left were anything to go by. The walk to the Potions classroom was brief and thankfully free of any conversation on his part.  _Slytherin-Gryffindor lesson._

The Gryffindors were all already there. Gray was in the corner surrounded by her half-witted, dense friends. For once, Tom regretted Potter not being there and stuck in the Hospital Wing. If Potter  _was_  there, Gray would be without someone to sit by, the only spare seat next to Nott on his table. Her roommates had already choose to exclude her from most things. Except Dorea Black, but she was easily manipulated. Getting Dorea to leave her completely alone would be child's play, and could have some influence on Potter. Weasley would be more challenging. He didn't appear to adopt a childish vendetta against Tom as Potter had, but if Tom displayed any signs of aggression, Weasley would be quick to tell his friends. Including Hermione. He didn't have to worry about Potter- he was already jealous of Tom due to his 'history' with Dorea, so if he were to simply talk with Gray, Potter would avoid her. Lupin, however, would be smart enough to see through this. He seemed to share Potter's dislike, but nowhere near as strong. Longbottom would be  _almost_  as difficult as Weasley.

Regardless, Gray needed to be isolated, and to distrust her friends. Then her secrets would be easier to pry away from her.

The table he had chosen was close enough to Slughorn's desk to maintain his facade of being interested in what that pushover had to say, but had enough distance to not seem over-eger. A minute after his entry, the rest of the Slytherin trailed in, quietly murmuring amongst themselves. There was not one table with both Slytherins and Gryffindor. Tom knew that Slughorn would be displeased with this; the chances of him 'mixing up' the places people had chosen to sit were exceedingly high. Malfoy stirred uncomfortably besides him. It was almost amusing to watch. He could feel several eyes on him. All of the girls excluding three were looking his way. Distracting, but expected. It was a shame that Gray was cautious of him. She would have been so much easier to manipulate if she had followed suit like other girls and had a hopeless infatuation.

"Afternoon, class." Slughorn waddled into the classroom. There was the usual half-dead mumble of 'afternoon.' Slughorn's small eyes wondered around the class, a frown forming on his face when he noticed the firm segregation between the Slytherin and Gryffindors, only to be replaced by an exited grin when he laid his eyes upon Gray.

"Ah, a new student. Dumbledore told me to be expecting you, Miss..."

"Gray." Hermione finished. Weasley whispered something into her ear, and she skillfully covered up a laugh, making it look like a cough. Tom's eyes narrowed. For an unknown reason, Weasley was bothering him more than usual.

"Of course, how exciting. I'm interested to see how good at potions you are. There's spare ingredients in the cupboard to the left, Weasley, if you could show Miss Gray?"

Weasley led her to the cupboard, hissing something under his breath among the way. Slughorn continued on with the lesson, instructing them to open their copies of Advanced Potion-Making to page 47. There was nothing advanced about the potions in the book; Tom would easily be able to create all of them at his second year.

"Today, we'll be focusing on Draught Of Living Death. Can anyone tell me what happens if someone drinks this potion? Miss Gray."

"The indigestion of this potion causes the drinker to go into a death-like sleep. The amount of time the person goes into this sleep varies on how potent the potion is."

"Excellent, Miss Gray. Ten points for Gryffindor. How might you use this potion? Mr Lupin?"

"When operating on someone."

"Good, take five points. Of course, using this potion for that purpose is rare as there have been cases when the potion was too strong."

Slughorn continued to lecture them upon the dangers of creating the potion. Tom wasn't the only one not listening; Gray and Weasley appeared to be in deep conversation.

"-not to add too much, of course. Anyway, I do hope you can produce excellent work. Begin."

Tom frowned when he read the page. The instructions for the potion would create a thin, watery, useless potion that wouldn't be capable of putting a small mammal to sleep. He retrieved the required ingredients, but added a few more than suggested.

He added 150ml of water, 50ml less than the instructed amount. He crushed the root of aspodel, creating a fine gold powder. When the water started to boil, he added Infusion of Wormwood, which immediately turned the water a light brown colour. He added the powder, then stirred clockwise twice. Most of the people in the class had just crushed the root- except Gray, who was adding ingredients as though she had done it before. Sopophorous beans juice was the next component required. By adding twelve, the potion wouldn't be able to put a grown adult to sleep. He crushed thirteen beans against the blade of his knife.

There was a sudden explosion. Tom briefly glanced up to see Longbottom standing in front of the obliterated remains of a smouldering cauldron.  _Idiot._

"Oh dear," Slughorn grimaced, "clear that up and get another cauldron from the supply cupboard... Second time this year, Mr Longbottom."

Weasley muttered something to Gray, causing her to laugh loudly, and surprisingly genuine. Longbottom scowled, failing poorly at his attempt to banish the melted cauldron. Gray rolled her eyes, easily waving her wand and causing it to disappear. Longbottom gave a thankful grin, before walking to the cupboard.

The book said to stir seven times anti-clockwise. By doing so, it would change the colour to a dark, navy blue. Tom added one stir clockwise, causing the potion to turn darker, close to black. A few seconds passed, and the potion was translucent.

"Tom, m'boy, excellent work! You've done it again. Twenty points to Slytherin." Slughorn exclaimed from behind him. Tom managed to turn his features into a 'sincere' smile.

"Thank you, sir." He replied, maintaining the image of politeness. Slughorn scoffed.

"You're a natural at potions. You should be proud of your work- I wouldn't be surprised if you were minister of magic by the age of twenty-five."

"I kind of see it now." Lupin mused.

"Exactly. I want to crash their wedding, what about you?"

"Sure." Hermione shrugged, focusing on cutting the beans. Lupin grinned, then added something that Tom wasn't able to hear. There was another explosion, this time smaller.

"Mr Longbottom,  _how on earth_  did you manage to cause another explosion in the span of half an hour?"

Longbottom flushed. Weasley ducked behind the table, shaking with uncontrollable laughter. Lupin clasped his hands with exhausted amusement. Surprisingly, Gray didn't react at all, instead stirring her potion anticlockwise. Slughorn waddled towards the four, bewildered.

"Perhaps it is best you sit this potion out, Mr Longbottom. Ah, Miss Gray, you've finished."

Slughorn fished out a fresh leaf from his pocket, then dropped it into the cauldron.

"Good work. Ten points to Gryffindor. If you could assist the people on your table..." He said, casting a conspicuous glance at Weasley's yellow potion, which should have been a brown shade.

"Of course." She forced a smile. Lupin frowned.

" _How_  did you complete it so quickly?" Gray shrugged.

"That's because she was born in Summer." Weasley announced in a weak, quivering voice, not unlike Triseyre's.

"But she was born on September the 19th." Longbottom added, grinning. Lupin huffed.

"She isn't even that good a teacher, regardless-"

At this, Tom decided to stop listening to their conversation. They weren't discussing anything interesting or had anything that could be useful to him.

"Time does pass when you're having fun. Ten minutes left, pack up. Miss Gray, I'd like to talk to you. If you could stay behind, too, Tom." Slughorn announced.

Tom forced a smile. With a quick wave of his wand, the liquid in his cauldron evaporated.

"I'll wait for you, if you want." Weasley offered, voice bordering hopeful. Gray smiled at him.

"Don't worry, you go ahead. I'll be fine."

"Don't forget that Dumbledore wants to see you. I'll have to take you there." Weasley added.

"I won't forget, don't worry. I'll see you later."

"Flirting with Hermione, huh?" Longbottom sniggered as they left through the door. Lupin rolled his eyes and held the door open for his friends. He was obviously the smarter out of the two.

"Shut up, Isaac." Weasley muttered, flushing.

"Ah, Miss Gray. I would like to invite you to a little social get-together I occasionally have with some of my more promising students. Tom, here, is also part of the Slug Club."

Tom gave her his most charming smile. She briefly glowered at him before slamming her features into a polite, neutral expression.  _Curious._

"Of course, I expect you shall become close friends. Both of you have  _so much_ talent, you two are the only ones able to successfully created Draught of Living Death in my whole teaching career. Very promising indeed."

"Thank you, professor." Gray forced a strained smile. Slughorn was oblivious enough to think it was genuine, and continued.

"Don't thank me, Miss Gray. Such talent shouldn't go amis. Anyway, I shouldn't hold you up too long. If you have any questions about this, you can always to to Tom and I. I trust you will escort Miss Gray, Tom?"

"Of course." He replied. Gray tensed.

"Good, good, always such a gentleman. The next meeting is scheduled for the 23rd, I do hope you come."

"I will. Goodbye, professor." Gray made a successful bid for the exit. Slughorn smiled, almost knowingly.

"She seems to be a wonderful witch." He said, giving Tom a significant look. Tom nodded, before exiting. Gray didn't wait for him and he didn't expect her to.


	9. The Movements

_What was that?!_

Voldemort had Slughorn and most of the student body under his thumb. Of course, Harry had told her that, in his student years, Voldemort had been charming. She didn't realise the extent. The look that Voldemort had sent her had been one of interest. That couldn't mean anything good.

Hermione sped towards Weasley, putting as much space between her and Riddle as possible. Weasley waved invitingly, gesturing to the seat he had saved for her. She took it, grateful.

"How did it go?"

"What?" Hermione asked quickly, almost guiltily.

"Your talk with Sluggy. Was it okay? You look terrified." Weasley elaborated, concerned. "Do you want to go to the Hospital Ward? Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm fine, just have a bit of a headache. Slughorn wanted me to join the Slug Club."

"Nice. Isaac's been trying to get in the club for  _ages_. No luck, of course. Though, Jacob's in it." He said, gesturing to Lupin.

"It's alright... He does like to talk about himself. A lot. He brings in some people he had previously taught that are now well-known."

She glanced at Riddle. He was staring, almost as though he was intrigued, directly at her. Uncomfortable, she averted her eyes. She had given so much away just by her interactions. What if he put together the pieces of her stories just based on her reactions and worked things out? She wasn't scared of getting killed. Death was more of a memory to her, a part of who she was. If he did work it out, he would be able to work out how to be more powerful, where to hide his Horcruxes and who not to trust.

"You should eat." Weasley thankfully interrupted her thoughts. She loaded her plate, pensively eating. The boys carried their own conversation, seemingly not aware of her silence.

Minutes later, Slughorn entered the Great Hall, smirking slightly at her as though he knew something she didn't. Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Dumbledore should be able to speak to you now." Weasley turned to her, grinning. She nodded.

"We'll see you in the common room. Tell me what he wanted later." Longbottom called after them. Weasley offered her his arm, which she took. They walked to Dumbledore's office, which, in her time, was owned by McGonagall. She knocked the oak door. They waited for a second or so before they had a reply.

"Come in, Miss Gray."

"I'll wait outside for you." Weasley smiled. Surprisingly comforted by this promise, Hermione entered the office. This was how she remembered the Headmaster's office; odd, silver trinkets in an organised mess, pensive tucked away in the corner, hundreds of books and tomes on the shelves. Fawkes the Phoenix was on his perch, seemingly sleeping.

"Sit down, Hermione." Dumbledore smiled warmly. She took the chair he pointed to, which was facing him across the desk.

"How are you enjoying Hogwarts?" He asked.

"I do like it here."

"Good. Though, unfortunately, as you may have guessed, you have not been called in here for a social occasion." Dumbledore's gentle smile turned more serious, the twinkle usually found in his eyes disappeared as they hardened.

"What time are you from, Miss Gray?"

"1998." Hermione grimaced.  _Straight to the point, then._  Shewasn't surprised that Dumbledore had worked it out. He had seemed to know more than he let on, especially his slight frown when mentioning Dippet's hypothesis. She needed to knew how he knew so she didn't give anything away. He had waited for a while before questioning her, and she was grateful for that fact. Dumbledore nodded to himself.

"I see. Do you know how you travelled back?"

"I don't. I didn't mean to, I remember that much. I can't remember what I actually did that caused me to go back."

"What do you remember?"

"I was on Hogwarts ground when I had all three Hallows, sir." At this, Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. He blinked, then leaned in, hands joined.

"Do you know the location of any in this timeline?"

"I do, but only some; Grindelwald has the Elder Wand, and the Potter's have the Invisibility Cloak."

"What is your real name?" He asked.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"You've made up a surname. That was quick thinking on your behalf. I'm impressed. However, I'm afraid I must ask you not to pursue the Hallows. They are dangerous, more so then you could ever imagine. You were sent back, but how I still do not understand. It is unlikely that you will be able to return."

Hermione had been expecting this. She wouldn't miss her old timeline; there was nothing for her there. Her best friend, her fiancé, her parents, all of her friends had died.  _They weren't even born yet._

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this. I will work on a way to try and get you back home, but with this current timeline, there is only theories on time travel. I do believe Mr Weasley is waiting outside for you."

"Yes sir. But how did you know I wasn't from this time?"

"Your peculiar clothing, of course." Dumbledore smiled. 

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

"So what was that about?" Weasley asked. They walked together, arms linked.

"He just wanted to see how I was doing." Hermione lied. Weasley nodded, accepting that as an answer, then launched into a one-sided discussion about Quidditch.

She felt as though she large weight had been lifted off her chest. She didn't realise how much her secret had been affecting her. She knew she didn't have to worry about Dumbledore telling anyone.

"Did you know that I play Beater in the Quidditch team?" Weasley's voice sounded from besides her, bringing her out of her swirling thoughts. She shook her head.

"Yep. Alex is Seeker, and Isaac is Keeper. Though, Jacob is  _horrible_ on a broomstick. Even when on the Harper 3-60, he's still clumsy. That's the slowest broom of all. Cleansweeps are way better, but they cost a  _fortune._ "

He continued to blabber away about Quidditch, Hermione only giving it half of her attention. They reached the portrait hole, and Weasley have the password (Veritas).

"What was it about?" Longbottom asked as soon as they entered.

"He wanted her to break into the Slytherin corridor and set fire to everything." Weasley shrugged, flopping onto the unoccupied couch, which faced the fire. Longbottom huffed, joining Weasley.

"What was it  _really_?"

"Just wanted to check up on me."

"Oh. I would of preferred the whole, 'set fire to Slytherins' thing."

"Of course you would, we all would. Did you check up on Alex?"

"Yep. We told him about Hermione, of course. He's coming back tomorrow, just in time for the match."

"What match?" Hermione asked.

" _What match?"_ Weasley repeated, scandalised.

"Ravenclaw against Slytherin. We're hoping for the Ravenclaws to  _destroy_  them. That way, in our match against Hufflepuff next week, when we win, we won't have to go against them. They cheat, and the bastards get away with it." Longbottom shrugged.

"Where's Jacob?" Weasley asked him, frowning.

"Transfiguration Homework." Lupin said from behind them. He sat on the squashy armchair that was facing the portrait hole.

" _Already_? We only got it today."

"I know." Lupin shrugged, then continued to write, leaning on a heavy book for support.

"I think I might start it too." Hermione added.

"Are you mad?"

"Lupin's a bad influence on her."

"No I'm not, you two are!"

" _Sure_. How would we be a bad influence? We're perfect." Weasley asked in mock confusion, then posed. Lupin threw a cushion at him, hitting him square in the face.

" _This is why_  we can't have good things." Longbottom snorted. Hermione pulled out some parchment and writing equipment. She began to write the essay, Weasley and Longbottom's discussion on Quidditch tactics forming a comforting background noise.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

Hermione was gently roused from her deep sleep by a slight nudge. Her first instinct was to dive for her wand and protect herself from whoever it was, but quickly remembered the timeline she was in. She opened her eyes, which quickly widened into shock. She had obviously fallen asleep by the fire, transfiguration homework mostly done and resting in her lap. She blinked, staring at the person before her.

"Good, you're awake."

 _"Ron?"_ She whispered in disbelief. Ron frowned, blue eyes showing his confusion. It definitely was Ron. He looked exactly like himself. Then how did he come back? Maybe the Hallows had brought him to life and sent him with her, and the stone had brought him back. She started to feel hope. Maybe Ron  _was_  alive after all!

"Ron?" Ron asked, sounding bewildered, "No, Hermione, I'm Septimus, remember?" The voice now sounded concerned. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

 _Oh._ Ron was still dead, and she was trapped in the past without a way home and without someone to talk to. Septimus was shorter, had less freckles, and his eyes had slight flicks of brown close to the pupil. Ron's eyes were a warm, ice-blue colour. She glanced at her almost-complete homework and sighed.

"I'm fine, thanks." Hermione lied.  _Ron is dead. Gone. Harry, too. Your parents. All of the people you've ever loved and cared for have died because of you._ You _couldn't save them in time._

A hollow feeling in her chest, she stood up, excused herself, walked to her dorm, and got changed.


	10. The Match

She woke up early again. This time, instead of waiting for her dorm mates to wake up before departure, she decided to change out of her pajamas and head down to the common room. The sun was rising, casting soft hues of red onto the area. Lupin was also awake, leaning casually on the counter, sipping a mug of coffee.

"You're up early." He blinked, surprised, but not unhappy.

"As are you." She replied. He shrugged.

"I was just about to leave. If we get to the Main Hall early enough, we're going to be able to hold an actual conversation that doesn't revolve around Quidditch. For a while, at least. Them two wake up earlier on a Quidditch match day."

They walked in comfortable silence, Lupin's head buried inside a large book. Hermione noted that Riddle was not there yet. Only two other people were in the Great Hall, both from Ravenclaw.

"Did you finish your transfiguration homework?" Lupin asked.

"Not yet, but I've almost completed it. I'm on the last law."

"Impressive. I was only able to write about three so far. I didn't know it would take this long..." He trailed off, closing his book as he sat at the bench. Hermione took the space across him.

"Luckily for us, Triseyre hasn't set any homework for us. Or Slughorn, though he tends not to."

The pair continued to talk about subjects until they were joined by Weasley and Longbottom, who were uncharacteristically early as Lupin predicted. Both were whispering frantically as they approached the table.

"Just  _ask,_ what's the worst that could happen?" Longbottom hissed, just loud enough for her to hear.

"What's the worst that can happen? What do  _you_  think is the worst? I'm not doing it." Weasley snapped back.

"Just-"

"Really, drop it. At least not yet, alright."

Lupin raised an eyebrow, but chose not to mention anything. Hermione said nothing either.

"Did you have enough sleep?" Weasley asked her, almost sheepishly. Longbottom huffed, joining Lupin on the opposite side.

"Yep." Hermione smiled, eyes tired. Without a word, Lupin poured a mug of coffee and pressed it into her hands.

"I have a little experience with these things from studying." He merely shrugged.

"You say a  _little_." Weasley muttered under his breath, casting a significant look to the open tome on the table. Lupin ignored him.

"Look, Boot looks as though he's about to pass out." Longbottom nodded to a heavily padded Ravenclaw boy. The boy was on the edge of his bench, picking at his fingernails. His face was pale, and dark circles under his eyes suggested lack of sleep the night prior.

"Poor bastard, he's got  _tons_  of pressure on him." Weasley mused. Longbottom shrugged, then narrowed his eyes.

"If he loses, I'm going to break his leg."

"Isaac!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Don't." Weasley added in agreement. Lupin nodded, gesturing to say 'exactly'. Longbottom scowled, shooting Weasley an accusing glare. He shrugged innocently. "You should break his  _arm_ , not leg. Beaters need their arms the most." 

"You know from experience." Lupin quipped.

"Alex breaking his arm wasn't  _my_ fault. Not completely, at least." He added hastily to Lupin's disbelieving eyebrow. Lupin glared at Weasley sternly for roughly half a minute, during which he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Quidditch is good, isn't it, Isaac?" Weasley attempted to disperse the tension.

"You're on your own, mate." Longbottom shrugged, then loaded his plate with food. Lupin suddenly dropped his gaze back to his closed book, which he opened to a random page and began reading. Hermione felt Weasley let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Look by the door." He hissed quietly so that only she could hear. "Caenen Mulciber. Limping  _just like Malfoy_  is. Something's going on, and I bet you Malfoy's the cause of it."

The boy, Mulciber, not only had a limp, but a blackened eye. His back was completely rigid and straight; an injury to the ribs could cause the same affect. His hand rested on the opposite arm, and whenever there was a slight movement from the person next to him, he would become tense. In general, he seemed jittery, and he seemed to need support to use any of his limbs. Almost as though it were the aftermath of a Crucio.

Seconds later, Tom Riddle strolled into the Great Hall, sick satisfaction written in his eyes.

"I don't know what the hell they're up to." continued, before launching into conspiracy theories that mainly revolved around Malfoy being evil.

"That blond ferret isn't capable of defending himself against Dorea's fist, he can't possibly secretly be a dark wizard that opened the Chamber of Secrets." Lupin interrupted.

"That's what he wants you to think." Weasley raised a half-empty glass of pumpkin juice in a mock salute.

"The Chamber of Secrets isn't even a thing. Just some stupid rumour that some pedigree Slytherins made up to piss off the muggle-borns." Longbottom added.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. It was so obviously real. A girl had  _died_ from the Slytherin monster. Dumbledore knew that Riddle opened the Chamber. All of the evidence pointed towards the most clear outcome, but proof was ignored in favour of a future Dark Lord's word.

"I forgot, you don't know about what happened last year." Longbottom frowned.  _You've never set one foot in Hogwarts before, remember?_

"Well, it started with a bunch of students going missing. They all turned up Petrified, even my own  _cousin_  was Petrified, some terrifying time it was-" Weasley continued to talk animatedly about the Chamber of Secrets, all of which Hermione knew about.

"Anyway, it was all cleared up. Turns out a boy three years below us accidentally let some bloody spider out. Apparently, he used to keep werewolf cubs under his bed. Makes sense, all of the petrifications were Gryffindors. Except for Myrtle, but, well..."

"Insane." Longbottom muttered to himself, shaking his head. "I once met the boy that did it. He's completely harmless, probably had no idea what he was doing."

"Anyway, on brighter topics: the Quidditch game is in twenty minutes. Let's hope Ravenclaw  _steamrolls_ them." Weasley was successfully able to change the grim subject to something lighter.

"I was hoping Boot sends a bludger towards Malfoy, but he looks as though he can't pick up a fork." Longbottom lamented after shoving food into his mouth. Lupin let out an annoyed huff.

"Why do you feel the need to stuff food in your face whist you speak? Some day, you're going to choke, and I'll laugh."

"Lovely." Longbottom sniggers. He then placed as much food in his mouth as possible, intending on annoying Lupin further. "Why would you laugh if I choked?"

"I now honestly  _hope_  you choke." Lupin scowls, though the slight upturn to his mouth displayed his amusement. Longbottom snorted, then started spluttering as a coughing fit attacked him. True to his word, Lupin let out a startled bark of laughter. When Longbottom eventually regained his breathing, he glowered at the three in mock fury.

"I was  _dying_."

"Shame you didn't." Weasley muttered, then winced when Longbottom kicked him.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

"Go on, Harvey!" Weasley roared as the Ravenclaw seeker dodged a bludger by a fingers' breath.

"You do know he can't hear you." Lupin informed. Hermione grinned. It appears Lupin also shared her distaste for Quidditch.

"Where's your  _school spirit?_ " Longbottom questioned, briefly turning to Lupin in fake annoyance before turning to continue avidly watching the match.

"Chang has the Quaffle, he passes it to Bones, then Lee, who shoots _\- 10-0 to Ravenclaw!"_ The commentator yells, exhilaration evident in his voice. The only house that didn't cheer were the Slytherins. Weasley and Longbottom continued to watch the game, Lupin and Hermione discussing things that weren't Quidditch.

"I've been looking for you lot!" A boy with incredibly messy black hair and light hazel eyes approached the four. He had a slight resemblance to Harry. She recalled the picture that hung on the Orders' notice board, and noticed that he looked exactly like James Potter.

"Alex! How's the arm?" Weasley grinned, gesturing to the sling.

"It'll survive. Though, Hollyhock's getting more annoyed at patching me up. Next time,  _you're_ going to do the stunt, not me."

"There won't be a 'next time', because you won't carry out dangerous activities." Lupin interrupted.

"Calm down,  _mother_.  _We_  won't do it, I promise. Isaac will instead."

"What?" Longbottom asked, turning with a confused frown.

"Don't worry abo-  _Oh!_  Hermione Gray, meet Alex Potter." Weasley grinned, introducing them.

"Hello." Alex smiled with a rather calculating look in his eyes. He speedily exchanged glances with Longbottom, and, to her surprise, Lupin, who sighed, then sent him a slight nod. He grinned at Weasley, who scowled.

"Come on, let's watch the game." Weasley huffed.

"What are the scores?" Potter asked, eyes tracked on the Ravenclaw seeker.

"50-20 to Ravenclaw."

"Good, they should totally wipe the floor with them snakes."

"You missed it, but Boot hit Avery with a bludger." Weasley gave out the information as though he had done it personally.

"What?  _No way_. I can't of missed that." Potter complained, scowling.

"Yep, an- wait, what's doing?" Weasley trailed off, eyes staring intently at the Ravenclaw seeker.

"I think he's found the snitch."

"Careful, Harvey. Don't let Malfoy suspect anything..." Weasley uttured.

"You do know he can't hear you?" Lupin repeated, amused.

"Go on, you can get it, just go quickly-" Weasley continued to mutter, completely disregarding Lupin's comment.

"He's going for it." Potter announced, impressed. The seeker charged forward, causing the Slytherin seeker close by to follow. There was no point; Harvey was miles ahead.

 _"Go on, Harvey_!" Longbottom shouted.

Harvey, a slender Ravenclaw boy, was seemingly following something on his broom, determination written on his features. His hand reached out into what appeared to be air, his hand wide. The boy was on the edge of his broom, precariously balancing. His hand suddenly closed into a fist, and he spiralled down to the ground.

" _Harvey has caught the snitch!"_ The commentator shouted. The Slytherin seeker, Malfoy, was close enough to Hermione for her to be able to see a scowl. When the shouting and cheering from the Ravenclaw house died down, Longbottom turned to her.

"Ravenclaw wins the match with 200 points." He grinned.

"They were completely  _destroyed._ " Weasley smirked, nodding in pleased agreement.

"What do you want to do now? Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade trip to get  _the things_ , so we'll be able to go there." Lupin asked, large book closed in his lap. Weasley noticed this and raised an eyebrow.

"Five guesses where Jacob wants to go."

As Hermione and Lupin walked away, she could hear Longbottom frantically whispering to Weasley.

"The things? For you-know-what?"

"Obviously, Isaac. It's coming up in a few days."


	11. Second Impressions

Only her and Lupin visited the library. After having retrieved their homework, they took the quick route to the room which passed the one-eyed witch statue.

"It's going to be practically empty. The usual table?" He offered. Hermione nodded, and they went to the usual small, secluded table in the corner. They say down facing eachother, setting their bags on the chairs next to them, then retrieving the nessicary equipment. Comfortable silence followed, only broken by the scratching of quill nibs against parchment. Time passed quickly.

"I've just finished, how about you?" Hermione asked.

"I'm on the last law, so I won't be long before I've completed it. You can go and wander about, if you want, and I'll join you soon."

Hermione slowly walked down the shelves of books, enjoying the sheer number of them. She turned down a shelf to the left, a place she remembered from her own time to hold books on the Hallows, and surprised to see that almost all the books there weren't around in her time. Upon closer inspection, she understood why.

_Adequate Household Spells For Young Witches by Isaa Legifer._

Grimacing, she continued to search the shelf, only to have similar results.

_Beauty Tips to Gain a Successful Husband by Jamellea Hyrdlec_

_Suitable Jobs For Witches by Iglesiad Cartogh_

"I didn't take you to be a witch interested in household spells."

Hermione quickly pulled out her wand, sharply turning around and rounding in on the person. In them few seconds, instincts had overpowered logic; when she had camped out with Ron and Harry, even the slightest movements in the forests had caused them to become tense and prepare for potential attacks.

Riddle chuckled, throwing up his hands in faux innocence.

"Agressive." He raised an eyebrow at her armed hand.

"Annoying." She shot back, but lowered her wand. She didn't place it in her pocket; attacking her in the library would be dangerous and reckless, but Riddle was unpredictable.

"It appears we got off at the wrong foot." Riddle said, flashing her a smile. For a millisecond, Hermione felt charmed, until she remembered that this was  _Voldemort._

"Indeed. I tend not to try and read the minds of people I don't know." Hermione snapped.

"Same for me." Riddle smiled plesently, ignoring her baiting.

"Hermione, I've just- oh, good evening, Riddle." Lupin nodded, his voice more formal and icy when he directed it at Riddle.

"Lupin. I was just discussing things with Miss Gray here. I hope to continue this conversation." Riddle smiled, eyes hardening with unspoken promise.

"Let's go, Hermione. I'm sure Septimus and the others are waiting for us. If they aren't being complete idiots." Lupin nodded to Riddle once more, then offered her his arm, which she took. Once they had exited the library, he frowned.

"I know you probably think he's kind, but Riddle... There's something off about him. Alex is a bit obsessed with finding flaws in him, Septimus is fine him, and Isaac is nervous of him. I just want you to be careful." Lupin finished gently, leading her to the dorm.

"Thank you, Jacob. I agree, there's something to be nervous of." Hermione agreed, which made Lupin smile.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

She awoke with a sigh, the images of the new dream the night before still imprinted in her brain. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she headed downstairs, deciding to bring her beaded bag.

"-Three days, so get ready." Weasley said sternly, giving a pointed look at Longbottom, who rolled his eyes.

"Good morning, Hermione." Lupin smiled, the only boy out of the four not to immediately exchange meaningful glances.

"Morning." She replied cheerfully.

"It's a Hogsmeade visit today, so we get to show you around. By the way, you  _must_ visit Jolly Jordan's, it's amazing there." Longbottom grinned.

After being assured that she was allowed to go by a smiling Dumbledore, she head off to the village, Longbottom merrily prattling in about all of the places she had to visit. The trail to Hogsmeade was almost completely unchanged, the only difference being the lack of flowers. The cool air made Hermione more alert, if not slightly chilly.

"First, though, we have to go to The Dragon's Hamper." Weasley interrupted to collective agreement. Hermione opened her beaded bag.

"Accio coins pouch." Hermione caught the small pouch that zipped out if the bag. Inside would be roughly a hundred galleons. Lupin seemed impressed.

"Is that an infinite charm?" He asked, inspecting the bag. Hermione nodded.

"Not bad. Most people can't do them."Â 

The Dragon's Hamper was packed with other students. The barmaid, Fleaurial, greeted them then lead the small group to a booth that was in the side.

"Five butterbeers, please." Weasley ordered, waving off Hermione's attempts to pay.

"Consider it an official welcoming to Hogwarts." He shrugged. Potter shared a knowing grin with Longbottom, which quickly turned into a wince.

"I have a plan." Weasley announced after a few seconds.

"No." Lupin said.

"No." Potter said, raising his arm, which was still in the sling.

"Yes." Longbottom added, leaning forward to hear the idea Weasley had.

"We know that the Slytherins are up to something. I mean, they always are, but this time it's something big. I want to know what made Malfoy get that limp. What if we eavesdropped on the Slytherins?"

"That doesn't sound so bad." Potter mused.

"That's what you said about the slide thing, look where that got you." Lupin glowered.

"Just an idea." Weasley stated, throwing his hands up in innocence, despite the mischievous glint to his eyes. Lupin huffed a sigh, drawing himself up, but dropped the subject as soon as the drinks arrived.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

Throughout the day, one of the boys would make an excuse to go elsewhere. Evidently, all four of them were conspiring about something, but as long as none of them got injured, Hermione didn't mind not knowing. It was obvious that none of them wanted her to find out what it was.

"Oh! I just remembered. I need new robes. I'll meet you later at Jolly's." Potter announced.

"You need a new haircut, too." Longbottom added, casting a rueful look to the top of Potter's head. Potter sent him a death glare, quickly flipping him off, before heading in the opposite direction.

Only a few minutes later, Longbottom made an excuse ("Well, I  _do_ need to replace the cauldron I exploded in my dazzling display of pyrotechnics"). Lupin led her and Weasley to a small book shop at the edge of town before he had the sudden desire to go parchment shopping.

"Jacob  _loves_  this shop. I've no idea why, most of the books in here are older than his grandmother is." Weasley said with a laugh.

"I think your robes are older than than the books in here, weasel." A voice drawled. Hermione turned to see the smirking face of Abraxas Malfoy. Weasley's ears flushed bright red.

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Weasley scowled, drawing his wand. Malfoy chuckled coldly. Besides him, Avery cracked his knuckles.

"Aren't we quick to anger? Step asides,  _girl_. This doesn't concern you."

"Girl? Is that supposed to be an insult? I would return one of my own if I thought you to be a boy." Hermione snapped, drawing her wand and standing besides Weasley. Malfoy's smirk faltered briefly to show his anger, before his features morphed into a frosty mask.

"So be it.  _Aguamen_ -"

" _Alarte Ascendare!"_ Hermioneshouted, throwing a flash of yellow light. Malfoy was sent flying backwards. He landed several meters back, face twisted with undisguised fury.

" _Stupify!_ " To her left, Weasley took Avery's stunned pause to his advantage.

"You'll pay for that." Malfoy snarled, standing up to his feet.

"What are you going to do? Hiss at us like the snake you are?" Weasley snapped. Malfoy growled.

" _Avis_." A flock of birds appeared out of thin air. Malfoy sent them directly at Hermione.

" _Incendio!"_ Hermione shouted, the conjured birds disappearing in a burst of flames. In a wordless snarl, Malfoy cast another spell.

The fight was now between the two of them, Weasley being hit with a full-body immobilisation curse early on and falling to the floor. Hermione ignored everything surrounding her, focusing completely on the duel, her quick brain whirring to find the next (harmless) curse to use.

_Anteoculatia, Stupify, Cantis, Calvario, Colovaria-_

The last of the spells hit Malfoy, his hair and eyebrows turning a cheerful magenta. He snarled.

" _You'll pay for that you bitch. Crucio!"_

" _Protego!"_

The Unforgivable slammed against her shield, destroying it completely and draining almost all of her of energy. She staggered back, her slight surprise allowing Malfoy to cast another curse.

" _Protego!_ " She shouted. Malfoy was enraged, throwing curse after curse. She could feel her shield weakening. She desperately trying to hold up her shield, but a few more curses would mean it's destruction. In her desperation, she summoned all the magic she had, then prepared to run for cover when the shield broke.

Then there was a sudden change in her magic. It was almost like a sudden spike in her aura, but the magic was unfamiliar. It seemed to move with it's own will and combined painfully with her magic, into her shield. The new magic was draining her energy- her vision became blurry and movements sluggish. Her head pounded in protest at the added invasion.

She was distantly aware of someone shouting. There was a flash of red and Malfoy was falling backwards. She staggered forward, shield breaking as she did so. All she could hear was a low buzzing, almost like static.

She stumbled forward, her dizziness, the throb that attacked her temples, combined with the blurred vision making her feel light headed. Nausea gripped at her throat and stomach.

She promptly passed out.


	12. Awakenings

Tom was furious.

After Abraxas had  _promised_ him that he wouldn't attack someone without his permission, had  _sworn_ to him that he wouldn't go against him, the bastard had decided to charge forward and get into a duel, not only with the Weasley idiot, but Gray as well.

"I will deal with you two later." He growled, satisfied when he saw both Malfoy and Avery flinch.

He had to get to Gray. There was now no chance of her giving her memories to him willingly (even though he knew he had little to no chance beforehand), and if he had to take them by force, so be it. That girl had something to hide.

He hurried into the Hospital Ward,forcing his expression into a concerned frown.

"Is Hermione here?" He asked the closest medi-witch, his voice manipulate into one of hope and worry. The medi-witch's eyes softened, and she pointed him to the direction of where Gray was. He gave her a thankful nod, before hurrying to where she had pointed.

He scowled when he saw Weasley sitting besides her, his hand resting almost  _tenderly_ on her smaller one. Of course Weasley had to continue getting in his way. His fists clenched, but his face remained neutral.

"Is she going to be okay?" Tom asked. Weasley startled, quickly removing his hand as his entire face flushed red.

"Yes." Weasley replied, still staring at Gray. She stirred in her sleep, face lax and serene. The looks of nervousness and tension had disappeared. She looked nicer like this.

Tom shook his head at the thought. She has something he wants, nothing more or less.

"What happened?" Tom already knows what happened, that Abraxas must've done something to the girl for her to faint. At this, Weasley looked suitably uncomfortable.

"There was a misunderstanding." He said simply, guilt poorly hidden. Tom nodded in fake understanding.

"I see. When she wakes up, please tell her that I want to talk to her- just to check on her, see how she's doing." Tom added a quick smile, which caused Weasley to relax a little.

"I will." Weasley promised, before his gaze was pulled back to Gray.

Tom felt as though his task was complete. Now, all he had to do is go and deal with the two idiots that had caused this.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

The light assaulted her eyes. Realistically, Hermione knew that it wasn't  _that_ bright, but every time she opened her eyes, the brightness offended her.

Eventually she was able to adjust to the light, only to find that it wasn't even day; the dull magelight hovering above her bed was enough for her to flinch and shield her eyes.

Her thoughts were muddled. There was something wrong, something bad had happened. It took her a few seconds to realise that the thing that was off was her magic.

Where was she?

She was so busy adjusting to the light that she had forgotten to survey her surroundings. Thankfully, she was in the Hospital Ward, so she didn't feel as though any danger was present. Though, it didn't explain why she felt a sharp, continuous hum to her left. Turning her head slightly (and wincing when the feeling increased), she saw the slumped figure of Septimus Weasley. She smiled softly at the endearing thought of Septimus staying besides her whilst she was unconscious. He was a good friend. The familiar pang of sadness hit her when she thought about Ron. It was not as potent as before, but still severe. Guilt washed over her. It felt wrong, to move on with life with out him and Harry. At the same time, if she were the one that had died, she would want Ron and Harry to be happy. Not to forget about her, but to not spend so long grieving for her.

There was still the question as to what caused the constant hum, though. It was giving her a slight headache. It was something in Septimus' direction, as the closer she was to him, the more potent it was. Septimus shuffled in his sleep, head suddenly loosing the balance it had on the back of the chair and hitting the arm of the chair. Septimus swore and jumped up.

"You're awake!" He grinned at her, looking as though Christmas had come early. The hum had increased. She rubbed at her temples, despite knowing that that action wouldn't do anything. She closed her eyes, yet instead of darkness, she saw gold with flecks of black and red. As soon as the sharp increase came it was gone. She opened her eyes again. Besides her, Weasley no longer looked jubilant, but nervous.

"What's wrong?" Hermiome asked, concern seeping into her voice. At this, the hum dropped even lower.

"Well... It  _was_  my fault Malfoy attacked you." He frowned, suddenly find something very interesting on the floor. Hermione sighed gently.

"The only person who is at fault is that blond ferret.  _He_  attacked me, not you." At these words, there was a slight jolt in the hum.

"Thanks. Still, though." Weasley added stubbornly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What day is it?"

"The 18th." Weasley replied. The hum had picked up a little at the change of subject. She frowned. The 18th, one day until her birthday. Weasley failed to stifle a yawn.

"You should go to bed." Hermione said, giving him a significant look. He shrugged.

"I've had worse."

"You will if you face Jacob's wrath. You know how he worries." At this, Weasley frowned. He seemed to be mulling something over in deep thought, before coming to a satisfactory conclusion.

"Are you sure?" He asked. At Hermione's nod, he grinned.

"I'm glad you're alright though. You have all of us a real fright, Jacob especially."

After Septimus departed, the humming cut off completely. She frowned. It took her a few seconds to come to a conclusion; somehow, Septimus was the cause of the (probably accidental) hum. She knew that only she could feel it, and that it wasn't external. It felt like an instinct.

The hum was loud, warm and familiar. It was slightly uncomfortable, but not agonizing. It would change, spiking up when Weasley had felt excited, dropping when he felt guilty.

She frowned. Her magic was strange, as though something was changing it after she strained to keep up a shield.

Puzzled, she chose to sleep on it. Staying up to ponder the circling thoughts wouldn't be helpful. Feeling resigned, she closed her eyes and sleep claimed her once more.


	13. Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But Jacob-"
> 
> "No. I don't want to hear it.
> 
> "Merlin."
> 
> "He doesnt want to hear it either.
> 
>  
> 
> He continued to search for the book Hallows : Fact or Fiction? on the fourth shelf. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Gray attempt to reach a book on a higher shelf, one that she couldn't reach.
> 
> "Do you need some help?" He asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. Hermione scowled, before the mask was back in place.
> 
> "No, I'm perfectly fine."
> 
> Interesting. The mask could be broken, then.
> 
> "Oh, and Miss Gray?" Tom called after her. Gray turned briskly on her heel, fixing him with a raised eyebrow.
> 
> "Try not to walk into a bookshelf on the way out."
> 
> Despite himself, he felt a slight smile when he heard her groan.

When she woke up, a medi-witch was immediately by her side. Soothing waves of  _something_ hit Hermione. She relaxed, then realised how tense she was beforehand. The medi-witch tutted, mumbling something under her breath.

"You've spent most of your Hogwarts academic life in the Hospital Ward." She huffed, clearly disapproving.

"Sorry." Hermione blinked owlishin, unsure of what to say. The medi-witch sighed, shaking her head.

"I'll give you some privacy to get dressed into clean clothes, but you're worse than that Alexander Potter. I don't want to see you in here for the rest of the week!"

Hermione promised. True to her word, the medi-witch closed the curtains around her bed. She quickly got dressed, checking her schedule and time. Charms with Ravenclaws. She tied her hair up in a simple ponytail, before gathering all of her belongings that someone had brought down for her.

She exited the Hospital Ward, rushing down corridors and hurrying up staircases until she got to the classroom. Taking in a deep breath, she opened the door.

It was like walking into a brick wall. She felt a powerful force crushing down on her back.

She was finally able to identify what it was; magic. It made sense that Weasley's was constantly changing, that the medi-witch had a soothing aura. That her own magic felt changed, disturbed, even.  _That_  was why it felt as though forces were slamming into her.

She could sense magical signatures.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

Did she wake up?" Isaac asked as soon as Merrythought finished the demonstration. Jacob overhead this and leaned back, head tilted to the right to pick up their voices. Alex followed suit.

"Yeah," Septimus yawned, covering his mouth as he did so. "I think she'll be back next lesson. What did you get her at Hogsmeade for her birthday?"

"Surprise, you?" Isaac said.

"Suprise." Septimus replied. There was a long silence, broken by students around them doing classwork.

"Well, that was a great conversation." Jacob rolled his eyes. Septimus snorted, fiddling with the feather he had placed in his hands.

"Riveting." Isaac added, nodding importantly.

"Spiffing." Septimus grinned.

"Corking."

"Tremend-"

"Please stop." Jacob interrupted, glowering at the pair with no real heat to his eyes. Alex and Jacob turned back to the liquidising charm they were supposed to be working on. Septimus exchanged tired looks with Isaac.

"When are we going to need to turn a feather into water?" Isaac scowled, round face turning red in his concentration. Besides him, the Ravenclaw girl shifted.

"I heard that Brackfurtles only drink water if it was originally from the feather of a parrot. It makes sense, since they hunt Arcpolturs." Annora Lovegood smiled, lazily flicking her wand. Her feather twitched, but didn't change.

"Uh... sure." Isaac shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. Besides him, Septimus snorted.

The door was knocked, and after Merrythought gave permission to enter, the latch was undone and Hermione stepped inside. She seemed tired, and whatever hurt her beforehand had obviously reappeared. She was flinching, rubbing her forehead, before approaching Merrythought. Septimus craned his neck, looking worried.

"She looks hurt."

"Agreed." Alex added, leaning back in his chair again. He dragged a hand through his already disheveled hair; a sign of anxiety.

"Chances are Malfoy will want payback. I mean, he  _does_  seems rather on edge."

"We need to look after her more. Escort her about, so Malfoy doesn't-" Alex began, before cursing. He almost overbalanced, saved by Jacob's outstretched arm grabbing into his chair.

"As funny as it would be to see you fall flat on your face, I don't want to hear you whine at me for ten hours, or go back to the hospital ward after leaving it about a day ago." Jacob said dryly, helping Alex's chair become level again.

"Love you, too." Alex retorted dryly. At the front of the room, Merrythought nodded in understanding, then pointed to the back of the room at the empty seat between Septimus and Annora.

"We need to laugh like Sept said something funny." Isaac stage whispered. Septimus scowled.

"Shut up, Isaac. Don't you have a feather to expload?"

"That I do." Isaac responded cheerfully, before turning back to the raven's feather he was supposed to try and liquify a few minutes beforehand.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

Her eyes were strained, and vision blurry. Feeling slightly tipsy, she was able to walk over to the desk where Weasely, Longbottom and a Ravenclaw girl sat at. Weasley was obviously attempting to be subtle at checking on her, but was very conspicuous.

"Hey." Longbottom and Weasley said at the same time, then glanced at eachother in surprise.

"Hey." Hermione responded, then grabbed her wand. The magic within her sparked up painfully, and she immediately dropped her wand. Weasley frowned in concern.

"Does your hand hurt?" He asked.

"A little, but not that much." At this, Lupin leaned back, fixing her with a worried look.

"Do you want to go to the hospital ward at break?"

"No, I was planning on going to the library." Weasley and Lupin glanced at eachother breifly, before Lupin smiled.

"Same. We could go together."

 _"Transfiredium_." Longbottom carefully pronounced, waving his wand inelegantly.

"Mate, try not to explode the class." Weasley mused. Longbottom flipped him off, reciting the spell again. At the tenth attempt, Hermione felt a sharp stab at her stomach.

"Yes! I did it!" Longbottom shouted, pointing frantically at the round container holding slightly blue water. In his excitement, he waved his wand hand around, and promptly set fire to Weasley's feather.

Hermione had never heard Lupin laugh so hard.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

As soon as Hermione entered the library, her entire body relaxed, the intense buzzing disappearing when she stepped in the room. Lupin hummed softly, fingers brushing against the spines of books as they walked to the back table.

"Anything your looking for in particular?" He asked, pausing hesitantly on a green charms book before moving forwards.

"I was looking for something on the Hallows."

"The Hallows? As in, the kids' tale?" He asked, frowning. Hermione shrugged.

"Schoolwork is intense, it's good to have something to wind down with."

"Fair enough. If it's anywhere, it'll be down there," Lupin pointed to the far right, before adding, "But there's not much there. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No thanks, you find something to read."

With that, she turned and walked down to where Lupin had pointed. She passed different sections, including the household charms area, and turned to walk along the shelves.

Only to promptly walk into someone.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

The girl walked directly into his chest. Tom stumbled back at the sudden collision, unamused at the sudden disturbance from his search, only to find that Gray was staring directly at him. Her reaction was relatively humourous; apologetic and embarrassed at first, next, alarm, then horror mixed with strong embarrassment, and finally a blank mask.

"Afternoon." He said, voice polite, face blank.

"Afternoon." She replied carefully, face also impassive, but there would be an occasional flicker of emotion in her eyes.

Tom inwardly sighed. He couldn't use any books in this section. All information on the Hallows had disappeared, most likely from Dumbledore wanting to withhold information. The fact that Gray's shoulders had stiffened, or her hand clutched at her wand didn't pass him.

 _How defensive_.

He wondered if she was always this guarded, but discarded that thought. If things were to go to plan now, he wouldn't have to speculate about her, and he could stop thinking about her being a possible threat.

 

 

**∆**

 

 

 

Hermione didn't see his wand until it was pointed directly at her.

" _Legilimens."_


End file.
